Sugar and Ice - RJ Scott Page 0,19

have a thing for Rowe?”

“Had. I had a thing—”

“Oh.” He looked lost for words, even a little disappointed.

I put my food down next to his. “Wait, you mean you actually hadn’t read today’s blog post from my former fiancée?”

“No. I mean, I read a nature article about global warming and birds that—”

“Then you had no idea I had a thing for Tennant Rowe?”

“I don’t understand this thing you keep saying, were you in a relationship with—?”

“God, no.”

If it was possible, he seemed even more confused, and I found I was liking his confidence slipping. This was a tiny glimpse of the man beneath the icy façade.

“So…” he began, “the apology.”

“Why did you kiss me?”

“Tate—”

“Is this some Russian anti-gay thing where you trick people out of the closet, and then give them hell?”

He reared back at that, and the shock on his face was real. “No—”

“Then who the hell is Zorya and why does she think I deserve to be a star?”

He gaped, then stepped away from me, and I genuinely thought he was making a run for it, but I needed an answer and so I followed him. All too soon I realized my error as we were now farther back in darkness, isolated from the rest of the team, and he had his back to a palm tree. Not only that, but there was only a foot between us.

“Vlad, who is Zorya?” I asked again, “sister, mom, friend… girlfriend?”

He cleared his throat, “Zorya is the Goddess of the Dawn and the daughter of the sun god Dazbog. It’s a… thing.”

Gods and goddesses? Who would have thought that our focused, stubborn, icy captain had the heart of a poet. Good to know. Also, his gruff Russian accent was hella sexy and I had him backed up against a tree. For some reason he thought this goddess had blessed me with something cool like being a star. So what the hell had he kissed me for? Was it even possible that my lust toward him was reciprocated? Was it feasible that all the time spent pining for Ten could be forgotten and I’d actually get a proper kiss from Vlad?

“If you weren’t messing with me before, then how about kissing me again?” I fronted, chest out, shoulders back.

“It’s a bad idea,” he said, and attempted to sidestep me. He was a defender, he was bigger than me, he could’ve hip checked me out of the way and I’d have been toast, but I was younger, and faster. I blocked him in an instant, and hoped he wasn’t stupid enough to shove one of his best players into the undergrowth.

He stepped left, I followed him, and he growled at me, “eto glupo nepravil'no.”

“What does that mean?”

He muttered it again, then sighed. “That this is stupid wrong,” he explained.

He feinted right, then left, but I knew his moves; I’d watched him on the ice, gone up against him often enough in the last seven years, seen the intentions in his posture, knew him so well, and abruptly we were face-to-face and there was nothing between us at all.

With a growl he grasped my arms, lifted me off the ground and turned us so that I was the one with my back to the tree. I was hard already, I mean, fuck, he’d just lifted me, and turned me and—

The kiss was brutal at first, clashing teeth, and parrying tongues, and it was heat and fire, and lust, and everything that made me hard. He cursed between kisses, pressing me against the tree, and I cursed back, at least in my head. I scrambled to get a hold of him, gripping his shirt, his arms, holding on for dear life.

Then the kisses slowed, and he cradled my face, “eto glupo nepravil'no,” he repeated

I slid my hand from his hip, up his chest, and to his face, and I had all the words inside me that I wanted to say.

“Captain!” Colorado called from somewhere close. “Yo, Iceman, we have a barbecue sauce emu emergency!”

We parted so fast that Vlad stumbled and I reached out to steady him, only for him to turn his back on me and stride away. So much for a connection.

I stayed where I was for a good five minutes, or at least until my cock had decided it was getting nothing, and went back to sleep, then sauntered up to join the rest of the guys.

“Sugar!” Colorado yelled, and everyone turned to look at me. “Iceman was no help at all,